


another thought of you.

by teddylvpin (etacanis)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Reunions, Vague wordy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23314339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etacanis/pseuds/teddylvpin
Summary: It's been three years since James last saw Teddy, and he's still not over him.
Relationships: Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 87
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	another thought of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt **reunion**. 
> 
> Title from Truth Is A Beautiful Thing by London Grammar:  
>  _I wear another thought of you  
>  There's so much home I give to you  
> Hide you somewhere they don't know  
> Deep in my call you know you have a throne_
> 
> This hasn't be beta'd so any mistakes are my own!

It’s been three years since James last saw Teddy; actually saw him, in the flesh, not floo-Teddy or Dad’s-mirror Teddy, and Merlin’s beard, thirty shouldn’t look that _good_ on anyone. The hills of Romania have served him well, filled him out with all the right sort of muscle, added a little bit of edge to him.

“Happy birthday, Ted,” he murmurs as he’s dragged into a back-thumping hug. There’s the vague smell of fire-whiskey, and a twinkle in Teddy’s eye, his hair flitting from green to blue to Weasley red to yellow to pink and back to the red. “How much have you had?”

“You’re late,” Ted murmurs back, resting his forehead briefly against James’ before he pulls back, his arm still slung around his shoulders as he gestures to the commotion around him. “There have been shots. Your _dad_ called me old. I did shots. Dom’s already puked. Because - shots.”

“Shots, eh.” He snorts out a laugh, doesn’t mention that it’s just barely past eight, and doesn’t lean into the warmth of Teddy’s arm around him. Lily’s waving at him from the other side of the garden, or possibly doing some wild interpretive dance; there’s more hip wiggling than is strictly necessary, and his mum is very pointedly looking in his direction - probably something about missing the last two Sunday dinners - but he can’t pull himself away.

“How’s Quidditch?” Teddy’s leaning back into him, huffing his breath along James’ cheek, and if he keeps this up, James is going to have to find the shots himself. “I have your calendar, y’know. Y’know, the sexy one, the one with-” “Yep.” Every fibre of him is lit up, his face must be blazing red, he must be visible from Hogwarts. That fucking calendar - everyone he knows has it; and there’s something deeply disturbing about being faced with a photo of your own arse cheeks stuck to the wall in your grandmother’s kitchen. “I know-”

Teddy leans in, impossibly close, his lips to the curve of James’ ear, a brush of teeth against his lobe as he whispers, “with the broomstick.”

 _Oh Merlin_ , James thinks, _I thought I was over this._

He does a spectacular, if he says so himself, job of avoiding Teddy for the rest of the night. Training has kept him away from home for longer than he’d like to admit; he’s barely seen Al and Scorpius for months, and Lily’s constantly dragging him off to dance. But his eyes keep drawing back to Teddy; Teddy laughing, Teddy rolling up his shirt sleeves, Teddy twirling Molly around the patch of grass designated as a dance floor. He’s missed him, missed him more than he can really express in words, but the burn in his stomach, the lump in his throat from his teenage crush is still there, stronger than ever.

“You okay, Jay?” Lily’s weaving her arm through his, pressing a dry peck to his cheek. She smells like vanilla, like the cake she’s been eating. “Teddy’s looking lovely isn’t he?” There’s a quirk to her eyebrow, because she knows, of course she does, she’s always seen right through him. “All that dragon taming.” She purses her lips, grins and does something that, he supposes, is meant to be a growl. “On a scale of one to take me now, Teddy, how much do you want him to tame your dragon?”

“Shut up, Lil,” he says, nudging her with his elbow as she falls into fits of laughter, her glass of wine perfectly balanced. “I’ll go get Gran and tell her you’ve been seeing someone.” A mock gasp, an elbow back to his ribs, but there’s no heat in his threats, and her laughter evens out. She curls against his side, the twinkling lights dancing across her skin. Their parents are swaying together on the makeshift dance floor, Aunt Hermione’s in a heated discussion with Hugo about Goblins, their voices pitched above the music, Al’s staring up at the stars with Scorpius’ head in his lap, but he can’t spot Teddy anywhere. Not that he’s looking, of course. “He’s at least a ten.” There’s a hum of agreement from Lily, a gentle pat of her hand to his forearm.

“Who? Who’s a ten? Am I a ten?” Lily shrieks as Teddy sneaks up behind them, hooking his chin over James’ shoulder, his arms wrapping their way around them both, an awkward un-balanced backwards hug. “I hope I’m a ten.” And there’s that blush again, James’ face running so hot he’s sure they could light fires with his cheeks. Lily’s grinning at him, but she’s tugging at Teddy’s arms, turning around to swing their hands together, skipping her feet at him in some crazy jig. Teddy stumbles, trying to copy her steps, falls against James and bounces back up and twirls Lily under his arms.

“Oh, of course, Teddy-mine.” She winks at James, drags Teddy away towards the rest of the dancers. “Let’s see if you’re so old now you’ve only got dad moves.” 

The night lingers on, silencing spells being cast as people traipse off to the Burrow to bed, leaving only a few stragglers lingering out in the garden. Lily’s still up, of course, still as full of energy as ever, but James has been sat on the kitchen steps for twenty minutes now, torn, making his excuses at anyone who wanders over to ask if he’s okay - _of course he’s okay, just knackered, training you know, no days off if you’re after a spot on the England squad._ He’s never been more grateful for the distraction of a bright smile, but he’s sure the haze of alcohol is helping everyone.

Everyone, of course, except for Teddy, who keeps catching his eye from across the garden. Teddy, who’s weaving his way over, somehow still upright. He sits down, too close, of course, his knee pressed to James’, his temple resting on James’ shoulder.

“Are you mad at me?” He’s staring forward not looking at James, but the pressure of his touch doesn’t change. “Because you’ve been dodging me all night Jamie, don’t think I’ve not noticed, and I don’t know what I’ve done, and you’re the one I wanted to see most.” James’ heart thrums, pounds in his chest a mile a minute. He leans into Teddy, feels Teddy relax as he does. He’s screwed, absolutely and utterly _screwed_.

“It’s not you.” He doesn’t know where he’s going with this. He scrubs a hand over his face, runs it through his hair, doesn’t, this time, ignore Teddy’s breath against his cheek. “Ted, you’re just-” He cuts himself off with a shrug. What’s he supposed to say? How can he say it? _Ted, I’ve fancied you since I was fifteen, and I thought I’d gotten over it, except now you’re even sexier? Actually, Ted, you were the cause of my big Gay Crisis, and now I’m having big Gay Ted Crisis? Ted, you’ve known me since I was a baby, and all I can think about is touching you?_

“I’m what?”

James huffs out a breath, stares up at the moon. Celestina Warbeck is crooning, something about potions for two and midnight broomstick rides. “You’re fit, Ted, that’s what.”

There’s a beat of silence. A hitch in Teddy’s breath. Celestina warbles on. The lights sparkle. _Fuck,_ James thinks. _Fuck, and shit, and bugger._

Another beat, and then Teddy’s hand, rough, callused, perfect, is cupping James’ jaw; gently turning his head. He’s grinning, bright and happy, his eyes shining, his hair its natural brown, and then he’s leaning in, pressing his lips to James’, pulling him closer, curling his fingers in the hair at James’ nape. Teddy tastes of whiskey and sweets, his laps are chapped and his stubble is scratching at James’ jaw. He’s sure he can hear Lily cheering in the background; but all he can think about is the gentle tug of Teddy’s teeth against his lower lip, the gentle slide of his tongue to soothe.

“Mine?” He barely pulls away; Teddy’s hand is still twisted in his hair, their lips still brushing. 

“Yours.” 

He’s not sure how he manages to get them back to his house without splinching them, let alone safely in the living room and not crashing them into the kitchen table or something. Teddy’s fingers tug on the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him gently towards the sofa, that _grin_ still on his face.

“Are you sure,” James says, as he falls onto Teddy in a tangle of limbs. “Are you sure you’re not too drunk, to be, y’know, sure?”

“Your sister is extremely handy with a sobering charm,” Teddy murmurs against his lips. “Also very scary when she wants to be, a bit pinchy and mean, ironic, really, since she was telling me not to hurt you.” James groans, _of course she did_ , and Teddy takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth, kissing him deep, full of want and desperation. “If I realised I’d stood a chance with you, Jamie, I’d have been back home sooner.” His hands are under James’ t-shirt, dragging up his back, tugging and pulling as he grinds up against him.

It’s utterly teenage, taking James right back to furitive grabbing under the Quidditch stands, desperate dark corners of the Common Room, and really, he’s too hold to be dry humping someone’s leg, but Teddy’s still murmuring _Jamie you don’t know how much I’ve wanted this, you’re gorgeous, fit, fuck, so gorgeous_ and dragging his teeth against his jaw, and James can’t see, can’t think, can’t stop for the wanting. He’s sure he’s chanting Ted’s name, over and over, like some sort of horny teenage idiot, but he can’t stop. He’s out of breath and gasping, scrabbling desperately at Teddy’s belt until he can get it open, get the smooth material unbuttoned. It’s a bad angle, his wrist at odds with itself, but the feel of Teddy, here, beneath him, in his hand, and the strangled groans he makes as James rubs his thumb over the head of his cock, he just can’t bring himself to care.

It’s quick, and desperate, and dirty, but the sound of Teddy begging in his ear, the feeling of his hands on him, the want spirals in James’, he’s so far gone, and he knows, logically, this is too far without stopping to talk, but sense has deserted him, and nothing feels wrong. They come together, mouths together in a gasp, sticky and needy, Ted still grinning.

James wakes in the morning to the smell of coffee, the feel of Teddy’s hands gentle against his ribs. They’d forgotten the curtains, but the weak morning light barely fills the room, it’s barely enough to see by, but there’s Teddy, still smiling. There’s two mugs hovering beside him, the scent wafting as he gestures and sends one in James’ direction. They don’t speak as they drink them, shins and ankles curled together beneath the duvet, there’s gentle hums of thanks, but it’s easy, normal, in the way nothing has been with anyone else before. 

“I meant to make an announcement yesterday,” Teddy says eventually, banishing the empty mugs to the kitchen. “But I decided I wanted to tell you first, and then, well, you know.” Oh, yeah, James _knows_. Teddy’s hand is back in his hair, carding through the thick waves, scratching lightly at his scalp. “I’m back, for good, I’m not going back to Romania again. I want to be home.” “Yeah?” James hums, presses his head into Teddy’s palm, lets his heart thud with the idea of what that might mean.

“Yeah.” He drops his head, brushes a kiss to James’ temple, nudges against him, still smiling, always smiling. “So I suppose, if you wanted, we could make this a thing?”


End file.
